


Without You

by Fragged



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fragged/pseuds/Fragged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They need each other, even if they don't realize it yet. Destiny thinks she can help with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You

Young wakes up before his pod slides open. Eli is on the other side, greeting him with an accomplished grin, and it's as if a weight lifts from his shoulders. 

“Morning!” Eli says happily, and Young knows they made it through before the boy even launches into a way too technical explanation of how he'd fixed his pod. 

Everything is good. Everything is _great_ , until they stand in front of Rush's pod and Eli's face turns into a confused frown. 

“What is it?” Young prompts him, when it's clear Eli isn't going to shake himself out of his stupor on his own. He's not prepared for the devastated look Eli sends him. 

“It's...” Eli begins, swallowing thickly and blinking rapidly. “There are no vital signs.” 

Young feels his heartbeat pick up, a rapid thump of _No, this can't be happening_ , as he lets his gaze roam over Rush's body, frozen behind that blue-lit glass. 

“Oh, God,” Eli says, and yes, there are definitely tears in his eyes now. “I think he's dead.” 

“What about the others?” Young asks through a clouded daze – it's like he's speaking through a bad phone connection, because none of this is right. None of this can seriously be happening, not after everything they've been through to get to this point. 

Eli hurries over to the main console in the stasis bank and punches in a number of commands. Young doesn't know how to drag his eyes away from Rush. He looks so peaceful. 

“...Everyone else is alright,” Eli says, breaking Young out of his looping and disjointed thoughts. “Everyone but Rush. Oh shit.” Suddenly Eli is slumping over his monitor, dragging in deep, panting breaths, and murmuring 'Oh shit' over and over again. 

It's not... This can't be it. This can't be how Rush dies. He'd left the son of a bitch on a deserted planet once and he'd managed to find his way back – he wouldn't just die in one of these goddamn pods. He simply _wouldn't_. 

“I thought replacing the weakest conduits in the shields and rerouting the power to the stasis banks would work,” Eli starts explaining, voice tight with emotion and eyes loaded with guilt. “I thought that was enough.” 

It seems obvious from Eli's frenzied state that it wasn't. 

“His pod... Rush's pod—Destiny took the energy needed from Rush to keep mine afloat, oh my God.” 

The kid is about to go into a panic attack - Young can tell the signs - and in a few paces he's next to Eli, putting his hand on his shoulder and squeezing until the boy is upright again. 

“This wasn't your fault, Eli.” 

Fuck, he never should've left Eli outside. He should've put his foot down and stayed out himself. The ship could function without _him_ , but without Rush... 

Jesus, Rush is dead. He can't wrap his head around it. 

-

Rush wakes up, and the first thing he sees is the glass pane of his pod sliding up. He knows something's wrong the minute he realizes Eli is joined by Lieutenant Scott rather than Colonel Young. It isn't until after he's told himself to calm the fuck down that he notices that both their eyes are raw and red-rimmed, as if they've been crying. 

“What happened?” he demands, stepping out of his pod and refusing to acknowledge the wobble in his step. 

“It's Colonel Young,” Eli says, voice breaking on the man's name. “He didn't make it.” 

-

TJ hasn't even finished unfreezing the last bank of stasis pods before Eli curses. He sends Young a panicked look and says, “It's the blue aliens. They were waiting for us.” 

Fuck, they haven't even shaken the odd instability that comes from spending three years in stasis, and already they're engaged in battle. It's instinct and habit to flick his eyes over to Rush's console, and the panicky grief that washes through Young when the man isn't there – the man is _dead_ – nearly overwhelms him. He forces it down, there's no time for these kinds of emotions right now. They're in the middle of a life-and-death battle. 

“How much longer until we reach that star?” Young asks. Energy is their main priority now. Without it, life support will fail and they'll all die. Without it, they won't even be able to shoot back, because the weapons drain way more power than they have in their nearly-depleted reserves right now. 

“Forty minutes,” Eli answers breathlessly. “There's two of them, we won't make it that long.” 

Jesus, they haven't even been without Rush for three hours and already they're doomed. 

“How are the shields?” he demands, rather than giving in to the unhelpful wish that Rush was here. 

“They're still at full capacity,” Eli says, clearly attempting to keep his cool. “But we can't use the weapons, and we won't make it against both of them on our shields alone.” 

Young looks out through the bridge's window. The two Nakai ships are right in front of them. They'd seem harmless and dormant, if not for the lit-up rings around their fronts. They look like gaping mouths. 

“Shit, they're attacking!” Eli yells. 

The ship shakes with the first impact, and yes, clearly they won't survive this for forty minutes. 

“The shuttle,” Young says. “Can we use the shuttle weapons to attack them?” 

Eli punches in a bunch more commands, and shakes his head. “We can't, the shuttle's reserves are nearly empty, too.” 

Fuck. 

“We have to do something! _Think_ , Eli!”

Everything around them is trembling with enemy fire now, and Eli squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his sleeve over his forehead to get rid of the fear-induced sweat beading up on it. Scott sends Young a pleading stare, and _shit_ , if Rush had been here, he'd have come up with some sort of insane plan to save them all. 

“Wait!” Eli says. “We can use the shuttle like we did with the drones. We can send it over there and let it self-destruct. If we time it right it could take out one of their ships.”

They'll lose the shuttle, but if it means surviving this attack... 

“Will the shields hold against just one of their ships?” 

Eli glances back down at his console. 

“They should, but we need to do this right now.” 

Young sighs and nods. “Do it.” 

It's not like they have a choice. 

They end up sacrificing the shuttle, but they make it to the star. 

As they jump back into FTL, Young wonders what Rush would've done. If he'd come up with something that wouldn't have meant losing their only shuttle within the first four hours after entering the new galaxy. 

It's weird how much that thought hurts. Young tells himself it's because they'll be more vulnerable, less likely to stay alive, now that Rush is gone. 

He's not even sure he believes that's the whole truth at all. 

-

Everything feels muted. The sounds of the people around him, the sight of Lieutenant Johansen bringing her hand up to her mouth and stifling her tears, the glass cracking when Greer punches the front pane of one of the pods... None of it quite registers. 

They've made it across. They're in the new galaxy. And Young is dead. 

Rush feels himself stumble back a few paces until his shoulders hit a wall. This must be from being in stasis, the way he feels right now. This lack of balance. The muffled noise and the way his throat feels like it's stuffed full of cotton wool. 

It's not because of Young. The sharp stab in his chest is not because Young is gone. 

It can't be. He didn't even _like_ the man. 

He feels like he can't breathe. 

It's not because of Young. 

-

The first planet they stop at is nothing more than a hunk of frozen rock. They gather clean water, but Young refuses to bury Rush there. It's not even feasible – the frozen ground would be nearly impossible to open up – but it's more than that. He can't stand the thought of Rush's body decaying here, on this type of planet. It's irrational and it's stupid, but he doesn't care. It's not like Rush is here to berate him for it. 

The second planet, however, is perfect. There is sunshine and grass and small bird-like creatures that sing alien songs. They bury Rush there, give him a funeral the man would've probably hated – rolling his eyes at the flowers and scoffing at the religious connotations of the simple wooden cross Brody made for his grave. He'd probably even have had something to say about the font Volker used to etch his name and title into it. 

All of it fills Young with an aching sadness that has been with him since he found out Rush was dead. It doesn't seem to be getting better. In fact, it's only gotten stronger since that day. He'd never thought he'd say this, but he misses Rush. And not just because their chances of survival probably halved after losing him. 

He keeps his speech short and to-the-point. Young is not one for waxing poetically, and even if he was, he doesn't think Rush would've appreciated a long, flowery speech over his grave. 

He saved our asses a hundred times. He was one of us. He will be missed.

Chloe cries, and then Eli's eyes start misting up, too. Park leans her forehead against Greer's shoulder, and TJ looks downright miserable. Camile wipes away a tear with quick precision and gives Young a small nod. 

Young lets his eyes glide over all the people surrounding Rush's grave. He wonders if the man knew how much he meant to them. 

To all of them. 

To _him_. 

He has to swallow hard against the lump in his throat when he figures that no, Rush probably didn't realize that at all. 

-

“So, about Colonel Young...” Eli says to Scott.

Every time anyone mentions Young or his death to Scott, the Lieutenant looks like he's going to cry. Rush isn't sure whether to be annoyed by how prominently the boy wears his heart on his sleeve, or impressed by the fact that he's managed not to break down in tears yet. Not in public, at least.

“We're coming up on a good planet. Moderate temperatures, vegetation... It might be a nice place to, uh...” Eli says carefully. 

It takes Rush a second longer than it should to realize what Eli is suggesting. 

“No!” he cuts in before Scott can respond. “We're keeping him in the pod – he's not hurting anything. Leave it.” 

“You want to keep him in there?” Scott asks, obviously slightly disgusted by the idea. 

“We might find something, some way to...” Rush doesn't want to say 'resurrect', because... well, he just doesn't. “To bring him back.” 

He's been searching the Ancient database for days now, trying to find something, _anything_ to reverse what happened to Young. To make him alive again. To get him back. 

He doesn't know why he cares so much, because he's had plenty to say about Young's leadership style in the past, and it's not as if Lieutenant Scott has done a particularly bad job filling Young's shoes, so far. But he needs Young back – the ship needs Young back. Rush wants to think he'd do this for anyone if they had perished in their stasis pod, but it feels like a lie, even to himself. 

“Alright,” Scott gives in, and Rush doesn't think he imagines the hopeful note in his voice. “We won't bury Colonel Young yet.” 

-

Young looks up at the quiet knock on his door. It's Chloe, stepping inside with that elegant grace he always associates with people who are good at yoga or ballet. 

“Chloe,” he says, putting his glasses on his desk and standing up to greet her. 

“Hi,” she answers. Her eyes are still red-rimmed, and Young feels an echoing ache in his own chest. “I, um, I found this, in his quarters.” 

She doesn't say his name. She doesn't need to. They are both perfectly aware who she's talking about. 

Chloe presses a small, smooth rock into his hand, and for a second Young has no idea what he's looking at. Then he wonders how she knew. 

It's a piece of light green amber, some sort of tiny alien cephalopod encased in it, perfectly preserved. Young had found it on a planet a few months before going into stasis, and in an impulsive move he'd given it to Rush, figuring the man might find it interesting. In all honesty, he'd expected Rush to not even accept it. Even when he had, Young still didn't really believe he wouldn't just throw it away later, or gamble with it, or simply give it to someone else. 

Maybe Rush had forgotten it – it had rolled under the bed or into a corner, and he'd just never thought of it again. 

Still, Young feels a dull throb in his chest at the sight of the stone. 

“Where was it?” he asks, even though he doesn't want to know. 

Chloe gives him a long look, eyes sad and glossy again. 

“On his nightstand.” 

It isn't until she's left, until his door is closed and he's entirely alone again, that Young sinks down on his couch and lets himself cry. 

-

“Is that a ship?” Scott asks from the command chair, immediately turning to Eli. Rush feels a sharp pang of wrongness, because Scott doesn't belong in that chair, and Young would've looked over at _him_ first. 

“It just sent us a message, I'm running it through the database right now to see if we can translate it,” Eli says. 

It's a hostile ship, it turns out. It always is, Rush thinks, and suddenly he feels tired. He feels tired of these ambushes, these battles, this constant struggling to stay alive in a universe that seems intent on killing them. 

Before long, they're knee-deep in another life-or-death fight. 

“Shit! The shields aren't gonna hold!” Eli yells as a barrage of sparks rains down all around him. 

“We need to tune Destiny's shield frequency to their weapons,” Rush says to Scott. “Like we did with the drones.” 

“It didn't _work_ with the drones!” Scott shoots back, and Rush has to take a deep breath to keep from throttling the boy. They don't have time for this, he doesn't have time to explain why this is different, why he's right. And fuck, he hates that he keeps wishing Young was here, because he's gone – he's _dead_ – and it matters more than it should, especially when they're all about to die in a space battle. 

“He's right,” Eli says, and Rush is torn between being grateful for the back-up and being furious that Scott needs Eli's word to even consider his plan. 

“Eli?” Scott asks, and with a harsh shock Rush realizes the kid is terrified. He's scared out of his wits of making the wrong decision – of getting everyone killed – and Jesus, he's not ready to take Young's place at all. 

Eli nods at him, and Scott gives him a look that Rush can't quite decipher before turning back to him. “Do it.” 

He does. And it works. They make it out of there alive, and Scott seems more than just relieved. He seems weary. 

Rush doesn't have the time or the energy to contemplate the boy's mental state, though, not when he's exhausted and grimy with sweat. He takes a quick shower and goes to his quarters. As he lies in bed, the day's events play before his eyes. Suddenly he's overcome by an overwhelming sense of loss, choking out his breath and taking over his thoughts until all he knows is that Young is _gone_. Young is gone and everything is different without him. Everything is worse. 

He refuses to cry. He's not going to cry over _Young_ , and he's also not going to cry because there's still hope. There might still be something in the Ancient database. He might still be able to get Young back. 

After thirty minutes, when it's clear he's not going to fall asleep any time soon, he puts his shoes back on and makes his way over to the control interface room. If he's not going to sleep, he might as well continue adjusting his search algorithms in hopes of stumbling across something useful in the database. 

-

“So why did we drop out here?” Young asks, because there's only one planet in range, and Eli just described it as 'a more poisonous version of Hoth'. It's clear they won't be finding any edibles or medicinals, and if Young is going to risk anyone out there in one of the space suits he needs a damn good reason. 

“I don't know,” Eli answers, frantically entering commands into his console. “There has to be _something_ we need.” 

Young closes his eyes for a second, imagines Rush being here, and knows deep in his heart that Rush would've figured it out by now. He'd always been strangely connected to the ship. He'd always known what she needed, understood why she did the things she did way before anyone else did. 

Eli is good – he's more than good – but he doesn't have Rush's knowledge and experience, and when the time window is closing, when they're about to jump back into FTL, Young feels a raw wave of unhappiness wash through him as Eli pounds his fist down on his console and says, “Shit!” 

“What is it?” Young asks, already knowing it's too late to really matter. 

“Samarium,” Eli answers, defeat clear in his tone. “It's rare to find it in concentrated amounts. This planet has it. We could've used it to get the weapons back to full strength.” 

There's not enough time now – just under fifteen minutes on the clock – and Young nods at Eli. 

Rush would've known. Rush would have figured it out. 

He can't help but wonder how long they'll even last without the man here. 

-

Everything is starting to blur together. Numbers and letters and the brightly lit screen of his console. He can barely make heads or tails of it anymore, but he _can't stop_. He can't give up, even though every day, every fucking hour, it becomes more obvious that the Ancient database doesn't contain anything that can help him. There's nothing here about reversing brain death, about rousing people back to life after they've spent years dead inside a stasis pod. 

There's nothing here. 

Rush balls his fists and refuses to quit. He's the only one here, it's past four AM already, and he is starting to suspect that even Lieutenant Scott is giving up hope. 

Everything aches: his head, his wrists, his back. Standing over his console night and day, without sufficient rest, without eating as much as he should to maintain even minimal functionality, it's taking its toll. He still has one more thing he can try, though. There's still a chance this last search might actually turn something up. It would be a Hail Mary-type deal, but then... enough things have happened since coming to Destiny that Rush believes she didn't get her name by accident. A last-minute save, a shot in the dark that actually _hits_. Destiny could give him that now. 

He allows a tiny flutter of hope into his chest as he adjusts the search algorithm and runs the command. 

His console beeps its little negatory tone, and Rush... He _can't_ anymore. That was it. That was the last straw. The last straw he knew how to grasp at. The last straw that finally makes him buckle under the weight. 

He punches the side of the console. Absentmindedly he thinks that was dumb, because if the shooting pain in his hand is any indication he might've just broken his ring finger, but it doesn't quite connect in his brain. 

“Fuck!” he yells, kicking the foot of the console. Because Young is really fucking gone, and there's nothing he can do to change that. Nothing at all. Young is fucking _dead_. 

It takes him by surprise, the way the grief slams into him, hard, blindsiding him. It's overwhelming, he hasn't felt like this since Mandy died, and this time there is no goddamn pirate to chase across a desert planet. There is nothing. There is nothing but Destiny and Eli and all the rest of the crew – everyone else who got to survive at the cost of Young's life. He doesn't even have anyone to direct his anger at, and he can't help the way his eyes well up with frustrated tears. 

He slumps over his console, uninjured hand tugging harshly at his own hair, and cries useless tears over a man he didn't even think he'd miss. 

None of this is right. None of this is the way it's supposed to be. 

Young needs to be here, and ask obvious questions, and stand too close to him, and give him that amused and curious expression when Rush almost reaches out to touch him just to draw back before they actually make contact. 

Young needs to be here to ask him what's wrong, to awkwardly try to comfort him, or at least call his name in that gravelly tone that feels more like home than even the hum of Destiny's engines. 

Young needs to _be here_. 

-

Young knows it's a dream, but it's so life-like. He can hear his boots clanking on the metal deck-plating. He can feel the weight of his gun in its holster, against his hip. He can smell his own sweat. 

It's all so real it could be a simulation, he thinks, and he isn't even surprised Destiny would do something like this to make him deal with his grief. Because Rush is right there, standing at his console, fingers stilled over the controls, looking lost. 

Young isn't prepared for the hot spike of longing that floods his system at the sight of his chief scientist. 

“Rush,” he says, and when Rush turns around there's something in his face that makes Young throw all caution to the wind. Who cares that this isn't real? Who cares how even a simulated Rush might react to this? He needs it, he needs to feel Rush, even if it's just for a second, so he closes the distance between them and wraps Rush in his arms. 

The simulation is realistic, because Rush tenses up exactly the way Young would've expected him to, but then it goes straight into dream-territory when Rush clings back to him, curling the fingers of one hand into the hair on the back of Young's head and burying his face into Young's shoulder. 

“Colonel,” he gasps, and Young realizes he's on the verge of tears. 

“Rush,” is all he can say back. His own voice is clogged with emotion, and he doesn't want to cry right now. Not when he finally has something to hold onto, something to ease the ache of losing Rush. Even if it isn't real. Even if it's just for a few minutes. 

“Fuck,” Rush says, not making a move to step back. His frame is thin but strong, and Young knows exactly the kind of damage Rush can to do him when he's angry, but he'd never quite considered how nice it would be to feel that wiry strength against him like this. “This isn't real.” 

No, it isn't real, obviously. Although Young thinks it's strange that Destiny made Rush say that, because it feels like breaking some sort of alien fourth wall. “Right now,” he says, tightening his arms around Rush and breathing the man's scent in deeply. Fuck, he hadn't known how much he misses that smell, but he _does_. “I really don't give a shit.” 

Rush muffles a sound into his shoulder that might be a snort and might be a sob, and Young feels his eyes sting despite himself. “God, Rush.” 

“Everything is fucked without you here,” Rush answers, and Young feels his heart clench at how serious Rush sounds. It doesn't really make sense, because _Rush_ is the one who isn't here, not Young, but that doesn't matter. Because Rush is warm and solid against him, and his hand is scratching a light pattern into Young's scalp, and this is something he's wanted for a while, even if he didn't realize it until now. 

“Rush,” he says again, not sure if he even has anything to follow it up with. He doesn't, it turns out, but that too is unimportant when he turns his head slightly to the side and presses a kiss into Rush's temple. “Fuck, I miss you.” 

Rush pulls back, only slightly, and gives him a pained look. “I miss you, too,” he says, before leaning in to place a dry kiss at the corner of Young's mouth. His beard is scratchy but his lips are soft, and Young has a much harder time pretending this kiss is platonic. With a bit of a shock he finds he doesn't _want_ to pretend this kiss is platonic, and wow, what a time to discover that his feelings for Rush apparently run deeper than he'd ever thought. Rush leans his forehead against Young's cheek and shudders. “Christ, I really miss you, too.” 

—Young wakes up, and he realizes that he's crying. He touches his fingertips to the corner of his mouth, where Rush... where that simulated version of Rush had kissed him. 

He's not sure any of this helped. But then the last time Destiny tried to 'help' she'd nearly broken him, so maybe this is progress. 

Rush is gone. Rush is dead and buried and Young will never get his chance to say goodbye. But this... getting to hug Rush, to touch him one last time, to tell him he misses him and having Rush reciprocate the sentiment... Even if it wasn't real, it's better than anything his own mind could have conjured up. 

He takes in a shaky breath, presses the balls of his hands against his eyes to stem the flow of his tears, and quietly whispers, “Thank you,” into the darkness of his quarters. 

-

Rush wakes up with a gasp and brings a trembling hand up to his face. That wasn't a dream, that was a simulation – and he needs to figure out how Destiny managed to bypass his program, because she's not supposed to be able to communicate with them like this anymore – but right now the crushing pain in his chest takes precedence. Because he hadn't known, he hadn't _realized_ , and now that Destiny has shown him what he could've had, what they might've been together... How is this in any way going to make it easier to forget Young? To let him go? Because he's gone, he's still dead, and there's still nothing Rush can do to get him back – except now he's also burdened with the knowledge that he has feelings for Young that go beyond what he usually feels for people. 

Jesus, Destiny couldn't have just let him mourn in ignorance, could she? No, she had to rub his nose in it, like he's some sort of wayward puppy. Like losing Young didn't hurt enough as it is. Perhaps she's trying to reprimand him. Tell him he's supposed to keep his eyes on the prize – on the mission. 

He pulls in a hitching breath and squeezes his eyes shut. Young's warmth, his arms around him, the way he'd rumbled that he missed Rush... All of it lingers around him, steeping him in a thick mixture of loss and regret. 

He's going to have to move on, to let it all go. Return his focus to Destiny's mission. He knows that. But right now, with the memory of Young's simulated acceptance, Young's unreal body heat against him still fresh in his mind... he's going to allow himself one more night of wallowing. Rush rolls onto his side, pulls the blanket tighter across his shoulder with his good hand, and pretends it's Young's arm keeping him close. His eyes flick over to the nightstand, to the green piece of amber Young had given him a few months before going into stasis. Just a small gesture of kindness. It probably hadn't even meant anything to Young. But it meant something to Rush. 

His eyes are burning again, but that's alright. Tonight he's saying goodbye not just to Young, but to the lost potential of their relationship. Because he knows he could've loved Young, if they'd gotten the chance to try it. 

Tomorrow he'll remember that there is no way in hell Young would've felt the same way about him, but right now... Right now he'll let himself imagine what it could've been like, because it's the only thing that's going to allow him to fall asleep again. 

-

In a way, he isn't even surprised. He'd known their chances of survival were much smaller without Rush. He'd known that. 

Still, he fights with everything he has – he can't give up, not when Eli and Scott work frantically over their consoles, not when TJ is down in the infirmary treating as many wounded as she can. Not when everyone on the ship is depending on him. 

“They're trying to board the ship!” Eli yells, and Young directs troops to all the hull breaches as quickly as possible, but still too late. The sounds of gunfire over the radio are almost drowned out by the sounds of the incoming attacks on the hull, and when Young looks out through the window of the bridge he can see how the shields are thinning. Every impact makes the shields shimmer, a lit up spill that distributes the strain over a larger and larger area. 

“Shields are about to collapse, sir,” Scott says, and Young feels a hard pang of grief at the look on the boy's face. Scott is terrified, panic right underneath the surface, but he keeps his mouth tight, his eyes focused on his task. 

“Scott,” Young says, because he knows they're not going to make it. Scott looks up at him, and their eyes catch, and all Young wants to say is 'I'm sorry', but he doesn't even get the chance because a loud alarm starts to blare. 

“Oh no,” Scott shouts over the noise, glancing back down at his console. “Shields are down.” 

It's useless, Young knows that, but right now he wonders what would've happened if Rush had been here. Would he have found some way to survive this attack? Would he have thought of something? 

“Sir,” Scott says with a resigned kind of quiet that somehow manages to come through despite Destiny's wailing alarms. “Incoming.” 

And then everything explodes in a sea of light and heat. 

-

Young wakes up before his pod slides open. For a second he can still feel the fire, the force of the explosion, before he realizes where he is. Eli is on the other side, greeting him with an accomplished grin, and everything feels like it lurches to the left _hard_. 

“Morning!” Eli chirps, and Young has to find some support against the wall of his pod, because his knees are about to buckle. Just a moment ago they all died – he'd failed to keep them safe, failed to do anything right – and now here he is again. Is all of this a simulation? Is Destiny going to make him keep reliving this: losing Rush, and then losing the entire ship? 

He flicks his eyes up, past Eli, who is giving him a strange look, and sees Rush, there, in his pod. Oh God, it's all so real. 

“Check Rush's pod,” he orders Eli, and something in his face must strike a chord, because the boy listens without even asking any questions. 

“Everything's fine. You want me to wake him up?” Eli asks, after pressing a few buttons on his console. Young almost crashes to the floor in front of Rush's pod, because Jesus fucking Christ, _he's not dead_. 

Young presses his palm against the glass pane covering Rush's frozen form, and rubs his other hand over his face. None of it was real. Shit, none of it was _real_. 

“Er, Colonel?” Eli asks, yanking him out of his thoughts. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Young says, straightening up and taking a step back from Rush's pod. “Yeah, I'm good. Wake him up, would you?” 

-

Rush wakes up, and the first thing he sees is the glass pane of his pod sliding up. Everything feels wrong, because just now he was in bed, trying not to think about Young and failing miserably, and now he's here, waking up in his stasis pod. Young and Eli are waiting for him, and Christ, is this another simulation? What is Destiny playing at? Why would she... why would Eli be here, if this was just about his feelings for Young? 

And God, the man looks good. Not... Objectively speaking, he looks exhausted - dark rings under his eyes and a slumped set to his shoulders. But still, it's good to see him. The sturdiness of him. That silent, enduring strength he exudes. Rush steps forward, fingers outstretched, before he even realizes what he's doing. He stops himself before he actually touches Young, hand hovering in the air for a second before he lets it drop back to his side. 

“Uh, hey,” Eli says, obviously not quite certain what to make of Rush's behavior. Rush doesn't care, though, because all he can look at is Young. The man is staring at him like he can't quite believe his eyes, like he's trying to drink Rush all in before he gets taken away. Rush doesn't think he's ever seen that strange combination of fear and relief and something that almost looks like longing on Young's face – usually the man keeps his emotions hidden behind an impenetrable mask of stoicism. 

“Rush,” Young says, and Rush definitely hears the way his voice catches in the back of his throat. Young looks hesitant, then he reaches out his hand, and Rush doesn't want anything more than to feel Young against him - his skin, his strength, his warmth - so he reaches back. It's just a handshake, but it settles something in his chest anyway. 

This might still be a simulation, but if it is there's nothing he can do about it from the inside. And if it is, so far this one is very much preferable to the previous one. He looks at Young, searches his face for any indication that Young might have any deeper feelings for him, too. Any indication that he can step forward, close the distance between them, and turn this from a social nicety or a professional courtesy into something more personal, something deeper and more meaningful. 

“Colonel,” Eli says, interrupting the heavily loaded moment between him and Young. “Do you want me to wake up the others? We're three hours out from the nearest star.”

“We should do a general systems check, first,” Rush says, letting his hand slide from Young's grip and reverting back to his pragmatic self. It will be easier to get everything up and running without a horde of people skittering around the ship uselessly. 

Young nods at him and steps back. Rush misses the feel of his skin against his fingers already. “Alright, let's do that.” 

-

The day goes by in a blur – everyone made it, the recharge went off without a hitch, they weren't ambushed by the blue aliens. Everything is good. Everything is _great_. And Rush is alive. 

Young is in his quarters that night, contemplating whether he should tell Rush about his simulation, about how he'd never quite realized how important the man is, not just to the ship, but to _him_ , personally. He's not sure how Rush would react to that. 

This afternoon, when he and Eli had woken Rush up, the man had seemed shaken, and for a quick second Young had thought Rush was going to touch him. He's pretty sure Eli has an opinion about the way that little moment between him and Rush played out, but it doesn't matter. Rush is important to him, and maybe that's what Destiny wanted to show him all along. Maybe that's what the simulation had been all about. 

He looks up from his couch when there's a quiet knock on his door. 

-

Rush waits. He usually feels like knocking has little more purpose than alerting Young that he's here – deriving an odd sort of pleasure from barging into the man's quarters without waiting to be invited in – but right now that doesn't seem like the thing to do. He's... he's nervous, because what is he even going to say to Young? 

In all honesty, he isn't here because he wants to talk. They should, probably, and he's certain they will. But truthfully, the real reason he's standing in front of Young's quarters right now is because he needs to see that Young is still here. That he's still alive. He needs to see Young's face and his rumpled uniform and his broad shoulders with his own eyes, to reassure himself that this is still happening. That this hasn't all been some sort of sick dream. 

Young's door slides open. “Rush,” he says, stepping back to let him inside. He presses the control to shut the door again, and Rush feels his fingertips itch with the desire to bury them in Young's hair. Fuck, just seeing the Colonel stand before him is enough to make him feel like he can breathe again. 

He expects Young to prompt him, to ask him why he's here, but Young just chews on the inside of his bottom lip before turning more fully to him. 

“Before I woke up from stasis today, Destiny made me live through a simulation,” he says. It comes as somewhat of a shock to Rush, to hear that it wasn't just him Destiny wanted to teach a lesson. “You... You were dead, never made it out of stasis, and it...” Young looks down, seems to search for words. “It wasn't great.” 

“Me too,” Rush says, and watches as Young's head snaps up. “I went through the same simulation, except it was you who didn't make it.” 

Young looks at him intently, and Rush feels the urge to say something personal and profound, so instead he launches into an explanation of how Destiny did it. 

“While we were in the stasis pods Destiny's neural connection with us was pretty much physical. We were almost literally plugged into the ship, so the firewall I've put in place to keep her from communicating with us... well, clearly it wasn't very effective. She had no trouble running these simulations on us, and frankly, there's no real way of determining whether she's still doing it. I can't figure that out from inside of a simulation, and even if I could, I'd have no way of breaking out of it other than trying to destroy the entire environment of the simulation, which would be quite a tra—” 

“—Sorry,” Young says, muffled into Rush's hair. His arms are wrapped around Rush's shoulders. The embrace came from nowhere, Rush hadn't expected it at all, but he lets himself sink into it nonetheless, because _yes_ , this is what he wanted to do but didn't dare. “I really missed you.”

Rush feels himself nod in reply as his right hand snakes around the small of Young's back and his left hand inches up Young's neck until his fingertips are just grazing the hair behind his ear. 

“Shit, sorry, I shouldn't have just...” Young says, pulling back from him. 

Rush tightens his grip, doesn't let Young go anywhere, and turns his face into the crook of Young's neck. “Shut up, Colonel,” he says into the skin of Young's throat, before pressing a soft kiss into it. 

Rush freezes, and he feels Young freeze, too, and dammit, he hadn't planned on doing that. 

“Did you,” Young says, and fuck, Rush can hear him swallow because he's still much too close to Young's neck. “Did you just kiss me?” 

This time it's Rush's turn to pull away from the hug, and this time it's Young who refuses to let go. 

“Rush,” he says quietly, curling one hand around the back of Rush's head. “I had a dream about you, while I was in the simulation. It was... a bit like this.” Young turns his face to the side and places a small kiss on Rush's temple. “I kissed you. And you kissed me, too.” 

And that... God, that is so fucking Destiny. To have them share that one simulation after realizing how shit life is without each other. It already happened, then, didn't it? He'd already kissed Young, and Young seems okay with it, so fuck it, he's going to do it again. 

“Colonel,” he says, retreating from the safe hollow of Young's throat. “I don't think that was a dream.” And then he's pushing forward, capturing Young's lips with his own and making Young stumble back until they hit a wall. 

And maybe this is it, Rush thinks as Young makes a small noise into his mouth when their tongues slide together. Perhaps this is why Destiny put both of them through hell – to show them what they were missing. To make them _see_. This might be exactly what she planned from the start. Or maybe they're taking it to a whole other level, because Young is pushing back, now, turning them over so that he can press Rush harder into the wall, and Rush is frantically untucking Young's shirt so he can scrabble his fingers against the Colonel's chest. Rush grins savagely when he drags his fingernails down Young's sides and the man shivers against him, because yeah, the thought that Destiny might not have expected them to ignite in quite this way brings him almost as much joy as the soft row of kisses Young is placing up his jawline. 

“Rush,” Young says into his ear, and Rush feels a hard spike of lust at the way his voice rumbles, deep and full of grit. 

“Yeah,” Rush answers, hands skimming over the front of Young's trousers until he can unbuckle the belt and open them up. Young is hard inside his pants, and Rush yanks them down to free Young's erection, relishing the little groan Young lets out. Fuck, Young's cock is... it fits him, thick and sturdy and reacting beautifully to Rush's touch. It twitches a bit when Rush lets his fingers play over its length, and the head glistens slickly with arousal. 

Rush opens up his own trousers quickly and pulls out his prick, stiff and ready. He grabs Young's backside to bring him in closer, and _there_ , that's it, Young's erection pressing up against his own. The idea that they're rubbing their cocks against each other is so fucking scandalous it makes a drop of precome well up on the tip of Rush's prick – and then Young is kissing him again, harder, more intently, and Rush can't do anything but grab hold of Young's hair and let him set the rhythm. Young's hips move smoothly, sinuously, against him, and it feels natural to hook his leg around Young's thighs, to pull him in even closer. 

It's not elegant, what they're doing – it's little more than teenagers rutting against each other – but the friction is delicious, and Young's mouth on him is perfect, and the heat and the weight of Young's body against him makes all of this feel like the best thing he's ever done. 

Everything hurtles into overdrive when Young pushes his hand in between their bodies and grabs hold of their cocks, pressing them together and giving them something tighter to thrust into. 

“Shit, yeah,” Rush hears himself moan, and Young hums his agreement as he kisses him again and increases the pace of his movements. Before long, they're doing little more than pant open-mouthed against each other's skin as their hips drive into the tight heat they're creating together. 

“Rush, Rush,” Young says, letting his lips drag over the side of Rush's face. “God, I'm—hngg” 

Rush feels the wetness of Young's come against his own cock and the hollow of his belly, and Jesus, fuck, the added slick on his prick and the way Young's fist tightens on him... Three thrusts later and he's following Young right over the edge, clinging onto the man by the leg curled around him and the hands in his hair. Rush is silent aside from a small moaning sound that he can't quite contain, and then Young is back on him, kissing him gently, slowly, and murmuring that he's beautiful as Rush comes down from his orgasm. 

None of this is quite what he'd ever have expected from being with Young, but it's good. It's what he wants, and it might even be what he needs. This contradiction between soft and rough, tender and heated – he doesn't think there's anyone out there who could give that to him better than Young. 

Later, when they're curled up in Young's bed together – neither one of them quite willing to let go of the other yet, not after spending weeks in a world where they were all alone – Rush wonders if this is going to turn out alright. If this is a simulation, he could be letting himself grow dependent on something that isn't an option in the real world (and he has no illusions that he won't grow dependent on this quickly – Young has a way of worming himself into places where he has no right to be, and Rush knows his heart isn't nearly as resistant as it needs to be to keep this light and easy). If it _isn't_ a simulation, they could crash and burn and hurt each other worse than they ever have before. Both options are rather terrifying. 

“Rush, I can hear you thinking,” Young murmurs, pulling him in closer. “Are you still worried this isn't real?” 

Rush lets out a breath. “Something like that,” he answers, after a short pause. 

“I don't think this is fake,” Young says. “In hindsight, everything felt kind of different in that simulation. Or maybe that was just because you weren't there...” He trails off for a minute, and Rush allows himself to feel the slight flutter in his chest that comes with the still baffling idea that Young missed him just as much as he'd missed Young. Young looks down at him, gives him a rueful little smile. “But if Destiny wanted us to get along better, I'd say she accomplished her goal, right? Why continue expending energy on another simulation, just to torture us?” 

Young's thinking is much too simple, of course. It shouldn't work, but perhaps he's grown weak in the face of baseless reassurance since he's had so little of it over the past few years, because it does work, a little. Rush feels his lips curl up, despite himself. “You think this is torture?” he asks, nipping a short bite into the muscle of Young's chest. 

Young huffs something that isn't quite a laugh, and then stays quiet for a few long moments. “It is if I don't get to keep it.” 

“Colonel,” Rush says, lifting his head so he can look down at Young. “I'm not going anywhere.” 

Young gazes up at him and brushes some of Rush's hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear. He nods. “Okay. Alright, Rush. I believe you.” He pulls Rush down until they're kissing again, and Rush feels his eyes slip shut as Young licks his way into his mouth, soft but insistent. 

And in the end, Rush thinks, perhaps losing Young in that simulation was the best thing that could've happened. Because it hurt like hell, but it made him realize. And it led him to this. To Young, warm and sleepy and _here_ against him. 

And even if it isn't real... he's going to enjoy it for as long as he can.


End file.
